


A little bit of comfort

by neensz



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neensz/pseuds/neensz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill I did for the self-cest meme forever ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little bit of comfort

Eduardo stepped out of his lawyer's building and tripped over a guy sitting on the stairs, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette right in front of the big 'No smoking within 10 feet' sign. As if his day wasn't going swimmingly enough already, Eduardo lost his balance and started to fall, taking a header down the slick stone stairs.

"Whoops!" his stumbling block yelled with surprise, and somehow managed to get to his feet and in the right place to catch Eduardo just in time to save him from a cracked skull.

He grunted when he took Eduardo's full weight, but the guy must have been stronger than he looked, because he didn't drop him, and instead got him upright and steady on his own two feet before letting go—but he didn't let go. Instead, he moved his hands to Eduardo's shoulders and leaned in to peer into Eduardo's eyes. The smoke from his cigarette, which had managed to make it through the fiasco unscathed and still hung from the corner of his mouth even now, drifted up to sting Eduardo's eyes. "You okay there, mister? Didn't hit your head none, didja?" He asked in a thick and twangy Southern drawl, leaning back and patting at Eduardo's shoulders, smoothing along the shoulder seams of his suit.

Eduardo took a step back, out from under the man's hands, and surreptitiously felt for his wallet. The man was dressed like a bum, though he looked clean, and was extremely handsy—but his wallet was still there, so the guy hadn't been trying to pickpocket him. "Yes, I'm fine. Um. Thank you," Eduardo felt awkward, one hand checking his wallet while he found himself holding the other out to shake. Hell. Why was he even worried about his damn wallet? It wasn't like there was going to be anything left in it after he paid the lawyer's fees from that fiasco of a failed settlement today.

"Is there..." he trailed off. God, he'd give anything to forget that ridiculous farce—he couldn't _believe_ Mark had brought up that stupid animal abuse charge! "Actually, can I buy you a drink? As thanks?” Eduardo asked in an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts. “Plus, it’s probably better to have company when you’re drinking to forget," he muttered to himself under his breath.

The guy smiled with a slow stretch of lips, an oddly compelling expression. “Why, that’d be mighty fine of you, mister. I wouldn’t say no to a cold one, not after a day like today.”

Eduardo huffed a sharp laugh. “We can compare stories. I just lost a lawsuit against my ex-best friend, who cut me out of the company we created together.”

The guy made a commiserating face and took Eduardo’s elbow, walking him down the steps in an oddly gallant fashion for a man dressed in, what looked to be at a closer inspection, threadbare period wear, from maybe the 1920s or 1930s. He was probably one of those buskers with gimmicky performances that Eduardo always saw on the corners downtown.

“That’s hard, havin’ a friend turn on you. Me, my story’s not near so bad, but it’s pretty strange, so I won’t get into it. The gist of it is, though, that I just called it quits with a fellow I’d been travelin’ with for a while—nothing bad, mind you, no hard feelin’s. He was just one of those fellows things happened to, you know? All that excitement wasn't for me. I like travelin' to travel, to see the world I'm livin' in, not to have me some grand adventure. I've had me enough of those to last me a few lifetimes."

The guy stopped talking, and walking, to grin brightly at Eduardo. “Look at me! Natterin’ on, tellin’ you my life story without even introducin’ myself. I’m Frank, and you are?”

Eduardo nodded towards a pub a little further down the sidewalk, wondering if Frank was ever going to feel the need to let go of his elbow. It was strange, how long it’d taken Eduardo to notice that Frank’s hand was still resting over the bony jut of his elbow through his suit jacket. “I’m Wardo,” Eduardo introduced himself, wincing mentally as soon as the nickname left his mouth. That’s what happened when he spent the day in the same room as Mark, even with all the bitterness flying around—he turned back into that kid from college who spent all his free time hanging out in Mark’s room, waiting and hoping for the moment when that intense regard would be directed solely at him. “Eduardo,” he corrected himself.

Frank grinned at him. “Pleasure, Eduardo.”

“So this, er, ‘fellow’ you were traveling with—were you, you know, together? Should I be offering you condolences of your own?” Eduardo asked at they hitched themselves onto stools at the bar, testing the waters.

“Oh, nah, nothin’ like that,” Frank commented over his shoulder as he waved down the bartender before swinging around on his stool to face Eduardo. Frank slouched back into the low seatback of the stool, knees splayed casually and feet hooked on the upper rung of the stool’s footrest. He eyed Eduardo intently before continuing with a sly grin, “We were friendly, sure, but it weren’t nothin’ serious. He was in mournin’, y’see, and needed some comfortin’. You know how it goes,” he winked at Eduardo.

The bartender came over in time to save Eduardo from having to reply immediately. “Two whiskeys—Jack, not well, please,” he requested while marshalling his thoughts. He wasn’t particularly fond of whiskey, but the beer and wine selection in this place appeared to be sadly lacking.

Eduardo apparently took too long, though, and Frank interrupted him before he even opened his mouth. “Now this ex-best friend of yourn, was he one of those friends you’re a little more than friendly with, or was he one of those friends who can tear your heart out and stomp it to bits if they get the inclination, because they’ve seen enough to know how to get at it?”

Eduardo was a little shaken by the insight on Frank’s part. He sounded, frankly, fairly dim when he spoke, but Eduardo knew enough to be able to spot prejudice in his own thinking and guard against it. No matter what too many people thought, an accent wasn’t an indicator of intelligence. “The latter, though I wouldn’t have been adverse to the former if he’d ever offered,” he answered briefly, but even he could hear the ache in his voice.

“Well, now, I reckon that’s worse, then, ain’t it? But I guess this means you’re in a type of mournin’ too, now ain’cha?” Frank followed up the sentiment with an over the top, comical leer, one that appeared genuine despite the way it was being played up for comedic value.

Eduardo firmly shoved all thoughts of Mark to the back of his mind, and unleashed his own slow smile on Frank as the bartender set the drinks down in front of them. “It would appear so. And I may, in fact, be in need of some comfort to get me through the night,” he agreed.

“Well, now,” Frank grinned brightly, uncomplicated and cheerful in a way Eduardo wished he could be, “I do believe I might be able to help you with that.”

 


End file.
